Dan smiled at her. No point denying it, she was getting on; the lines on her face and the backs of her hands told that story. But she’d dip-dyed her long grey hair into every shade of pink and she was still thin and loose-limbed, still wore her denim flares and cheesecloth shirts with panache. ‘You’re fucking amazing,’ he said. ‘Look at you.’ She dipped her head modestly, and Frank raised the joint, what was left of it, in a sort of vague salute to Lisa’s lasting beauty. Frank was older than her; he was really old, pushing eighty, not that he cared, the incorrigible old goat; he still watched women with a connoisseur’s eye, as if he was a player, as if he stood a chance.

‘So,’ Frank said now, after a few beats of silence. ‘What was that ephemeral shit we just heard?’

Dan laughed.

‘It was the very young,’ said Lisa. ‘Singing a song.’

Dan said, ‘Sweet song, sent to me by a sweet girl.’

He hadn’t meant to say this, hadn’t meant to say anything about Ali to anyone, ever, but there were no questions from Frank and Lisa. Sometimes, they were perfect company, thought Dan. With this pair, you could say anything at all, and still be safe.

‘Familiar arms,’ Lisa said. ‘Make me dance.’

Frank turned his head towards her and studied her face, as if he was trying to remember who she was. ‘Ell oh ell ay, Lola,’ he said. ‘You really got me. Give me the Kinks, every time.’

Lisa looked up at the stars, doing their thing as best they could in the over-lit London sky. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘I think I could just die of happiness.’

‘Don’t do that, baby,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t do that.’

The pub in Camden Town was decorated with Día de los Muertos skulls and a big neon crucifix, and was rammed with rockers by the time Dan got there for the gig the following night. The venue was upstairs: 150 capacity, and a high-end PA system that allowed the rock, punk and metal bands that played here to go all the way. It was heaving tonight and Dan found his spot at the back of the room, leaned against the wall, and listened to the set. He had a lot of time for Lionize, their energy, their personality, the nod to Led Zep and Deep Purple, dusty vocals, great guitars, gorgeous melodies, some soaring psychedelia, a crazy dose of Hammond organ. It took him back to boyhood, but still ducked and weaved in the here-and-now. Clever guys. After the gig he switched on his phone, and found three missed calls from Katelin and two from Duncan. Shit. Duncan probably wanted to borrow some money, but Katelin only ever rang when there really was something to say. He stood in the late-night squalor of Greenland Place and called her back, and she picked up at once.